The Bloodline Awakening
The hall stretched endlessly, its ancient stone walls consuming the dim light from enchanted orbs and brass lamps. That soft, golden light ought to have prevailed over the gloom, but it only accentuated the chill emptiness in the air. Leon stood by himself at the center, his boots tapping gently on the marble, each tap being consumed by the endless vastness.
His eyes slowly took in the cavernous space illuminated only by the gentle shimmer of orbs floating near the high ceiling and the flickering shadows cast by aged lamps lining the walls. The scent in the air was sharp—cold stone mixed with dust, and beneath it all, the faint ghost of incense that once breathed life into this fortress but now whispered only forgotten memories.
